By the Rev. Megan Allen-Miller
One of my most memorable lessons from seminary came from a course on liberation theologies. As we explored different theological traditions, our professor ended each section with the same three questions:
Who created this theology? Who was it created for, and why? And who benefits from it?
At first, the questions seemed straightforward. But over time, I realized they offered a powerful way of understanding not only theology, but also the communities and struggles that give rise to it.
Liberation theology emerged in Latin America in the 1960s in response to widespread poverty, military dictatorships, and extreme economic inequality. Peruvian priest Gustavo Gutiérrez is considered one of the founders of the movement, and Salvadoran Archbishop Óscar Romero became one of its most prominent voices.
At its core, liberation theology interprets Jesus’ teachings through the lens of the poor and oppressed and emphasizes action as much as doctrine. It argues that faith must be actively lived out through social and political engagement that challenges oppressive systems and structures. It is rooted in what is often called “God’s preferential option for the poor,” the belief that God has a special concern for those who are marginalized and that both the Church and society are called to prioritize their needs.
I know that for some, hearing the phrase “God’s preferential option for the poor” can bring up questions or even discomfort. The language can sound as though God is choosing sides or loving some people more than others. Yet the heart of the idea is not favoritism. Rather, it is about God’s response to human suffering and God’s recognition that some people carry heavier burdens than others. It is about God’s desire to create an abundant life for all people.
The liberation theology movement did not remain confined to Latin America. Over time, the circle widened to include many other forms of liberation theology, each arising from the experiences of communities seeking justice, dignity, and freedom.
June is a month that holds space for several of these liberation traditions. Pride Month invites us to engage with Queer theology, while Juneteenth invites us to reflect on the insights of Black and Womanist theologies. As we close out the month by acknowledging Juneteenth this Sunday and celebrating Pride Sunday the following week, I invite you to explore these theological traditions, the histories behind them, and the importance of observing and celebrating them.
And as you do, I encourage you to return to those three questions: Who created this theology? Who was it created for, and why? And who benefits from it?
Because here is the spoiler: even if you are not part of the community for whom a particular liberation theology was first articulated, you are still someone who benefits from it. Whenever a society becomes more just, more compassionate, and more attentive to the dignity of those on the margins, all of us become more free.
The work of liberation may begin with a particular community’s experience, but its vision ultimately invites everyone into a fuller understanding of what it means to live together as beloved children of God.
If you are interested in learning more, a great accessible resource is Introducing Liberative Theologies, an anthology edited by Miguel A. De La Torre.